The Ghost of You
by For I am Another
Summary: Angst. Sinistra is in need of a little comfort when her grief becomes too much. Snape/Sinistra. A hesitant K


**The Ghost of You**

**A/N: **Just a quick little angst dump

Disclaimer: If Harry Potter were mine, these characters would have had a lot more interaction. Of course, it isn't, and the only interaction in the actual books is an occasional glare or sneer. At least it provides a little basis for artistic interpretation and a little imagination.

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Her hand had been hovering over the door for several minutes now, not being able to bring herself to rap them on the hard wood. She knew it was ridiculous even coming down, but somehow it was the only thing she felt like doing, other than drinking and lying in bed sleeping. It wasn't the first time she had done this, the other circumstances were merely out of professional companionship, if that's what they could even call their somewhat deranged and psychotic relationship. It was the first time she actually needed to talk to him, though.

It wasn't her internal encouragement that made her finally knock on the door, but the noise of someone walking down the stairs some way away. In a brief flash, she could imagine seeing the scrutinising glares from other colleagues, or worse, those of sympathy. She hated all the sympathy. She just wanted to forget about it. She just needed to ride it out, maybe indulge in a few expensive wines or sherry. Hell, she'd probably take a few swigs of firewhisky if someone offered. She needed time. That was all she needed.

A few moments passed, making her think he wasn't there. The door opened just as she was about to leave, causing her to trip on a jutted-out stone on the floor.

"Sinistra." Snape looked at her. Thankfully, she didn't see an ounce of sympathy. Only the same cold yet slightly amused expression he wore when around her.

"Can I come in?" She asked, trying to lay on the politeness. No answer, just a raise of an eyebrow and the door opening ever so slightly, enough room for her to squeeze in past him and walk into his living quarters.

"To what do I owe the...pleasure?" he asked snidely.

"I have a bottle of redpepper wine and a willingness to down the whole bottle. Care to join me?" she held up the heavy red bottle in her hand, offering a fake seductive smile.

"Only if you stop with that ridiculous expression, or I may have to kill you." Snape said.

"So that's a yes? Excellent." Sinistra walked over to the couch and sat the bottle of wine on the coffee table, taking a seat. Moments later, Snape reappeared carrying two glasses. Wordlessly, he set them on the table, and drew an armchair to sit across from Sinistra. She decided to ignore the fact that he would rather sit on an uncomfortable cold chair than next to her.

" Let's drink." Sinistra said, pouring the contents of the bottle into the glasses, handing one to Snape. She took a sip from her own, smiling slightly as she felt the liquid slide down her throat. She hadn't had a drink since the summer break.

" There are other vicinities within this castle where alcohol can be consumed." Snape remarked, looking pointedly at her. Nonetheless, he took a sip.

"I know. This is the only place where I know I won't be judged, though."

"And how do you know that will be any better here?" Snape was all but glaring at her.

"Because you already treat me like shit. Won't be any different. I'd rather that than face McGonagall's sympathy." Sinistra shrugged, taking a swig at her drink. After another sip, she topped up her glass.

"Auriga..."

"No. Don't say anything, Severus. We're here to drink. Maybe have a chat about the weather. Nothing else." Sinistra threw a warning glance at Snape, who was wearing a strange expression. One almost reminiscent of understanding.

"I know." He said, sipping at his wine. A few moments of silence before Sinistra decided to break it.

"Any plans for Christmas?"

"My plans are exactly the same as yours. Staying here." Snape said.

"Oh. Right."

" Auriga."

"Severus."

Silence. Just a short glance, then another sip from both of them.

"It really is frightfully cold this time of year, isn't it? Especially down here. I really don't know why you don't have your fire going, Severus." Auriga said, noticeably shrinking a little into her seat.

"It's your own choice, Auriga. My quarters, my heating arrangements." Severus said, smirking.

"I know. Just merely stating my opinion." Another silence proceeded, but this time, Auriga didn't take a sip. The wine had already begun to alter her senses, and she couldn't tell whether the burning sensation in her throat was from the alcohol or something else.

"Talk to me, Severus." Auriga looked at Severus, who had set his glass down.

"About what?"

"Anything. Just...talk. Please. This is me asking."

"Fine. The properties of the Beetlejuice and Honeysuckle potion can be rudimentarily described as being both the function and the cause-"

"Something that I will be able to understand, Severus. And before you can even comment on how my 'intellectual ability as a teacher at this school is dastardly in comparison to the set standards', I am already aware that my smarts aren't exactly up to scratch as of recent times." Auriga returned the filthy glare which Snape was now throwing at her.

"Fine. Something that _you _will understand. Nabokov-"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence."

"Well, Nabokov and his works would be of particular interest to you, Sinistra."

"Yes, as you have previously stated a number of times."

"Well, I daresay that you and young Christopher Goldstein would benefit from the insight."

"Oh, says you. I doubt you haven't heard the rumours about your flaming love affair with Hermione Granger."

"Now that is the most ludicrous piece of garb I have ever heard." Snape looked disgusted.

"Well, a lot of people seem to believe it."  
Silence between them, just glaring at each other. And then, "What the hell is wrong with me, Severus?" a hopelessness enveloped Auriga, sighing as she rested her head in her hands.

"Do you really want me to answer that, Auriga?"

"You know what I mean."

"I really don't."

"I...miss him." She all but whispered through her hands.

"There is absolutely nothing wrong with missing someone. Especially under the circumstances." Snape said softly. Looking up, Auriga could feel the tears threatening to fall.

"I miss him so, so much. I feel...empty. Is that a stupid thing to say?" Auriga asked Severus pointedly. Snape sighed himself as though in acceptance that the following conversation was about to take place, before slowly rising and moving to sit next to her on the small couch. Auriga, only a little surprised, looked at him expectantly, searching for the taunting or mockery hidden in his eyes. Instead of seeing coldness, his dark chocolate eyes were filled with understanding, even a little remorse.

"You're not the only one to have lost someone they love, Auriga." He was looking away now, staring at something across the room.  
" I know. But why does it hurt so much? Everything I look at, everywhere I go. All I see is him. Why is it so horrible?" She could feel the first tear begin to fall, and quickly swiped it away.

" Because that is what life is. A never ending circle of life and death. It is something that we never seem to grasp, the human race. For thousands of years, humans have been dealing with the sadness that follows from death. And for thousands of years, they somehow manage to move on with their lives and live again, knowing that that's the right thing to do. Knowing that is what the other person would want you to do. But even in that moment, we still can't focus. We can't focus on what is laid out in front of us. We can't move on, because we can't let go. We still see them, everywhere and anywhere, and it's still there. That thought that maybe they'll come back. Maybe we'll just wake up from the nightmare. Maybe it wasn't our fault; maybe there was something that we could have done to prevent it. There's always that doubt, and that holding on to the past. That's what makes it even more painful when we finally have to fully let go. We just can't bear to cut the cord separating us from our still prefect world to the new harsh reality surrounding us. And the truth? It never goes away, that feeling of emptiness. Of course, you learn to live again, but there's still those memories and those 'what if' scenarios you keep playing out in your mind over and over, sometimes taking time away from the here and now and relishing in the past where it seems everything was whole. Instead of living for those moments when it feels like you're standing with them again, breathing in the same air as them, you learn to live again. You learn to live through the pain. We keep overlooking the fact that people before us have done it. Are dealing with it. Will deal with it. You just need to breathe, and trust that you'll feel something again."

"Is that what you do? When you think of her?"

"There are some things you never forget. It doesn't hurt to let yourself remember. You just need to remember to not live in the memories." He said in a distant tone.

Silence. Both staring off into the distance, Auriga feeling tears prick her eyes.

" Sometimes it's as though...I can still see him, eating his breakfast, walking down the corridors." She all but whispered. She felt a sudden pressure against her hand. Looking down, she hadn't realised that somehow their hands had become intertwined, him giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

" I know it's hard, Auriga. Trust me, I _know. _But you can't let it hold you back." His voice rang with sincerity, calming. They sat there a few moments, still staring off into the distance.

"I didn't know you were such a philosopher." She said, smiling at him.

"There are many things you don't know about me, Auriga." He replied, but almost distantly.

" I know." She said softly, still looking at him. His eyes were now downward, lying on their interlaced hands. " Do you remember that journal I used to have all those years back?" she asked absentmindedly.

"Of course. You used to carry it around everywhere. Bothersome little thing always used to be under your nose. You wrote about me multiple times." She had hoped he wouldn't bring that up.

"Hmm. Well, I lost it. Even after all this time, I still have no idea where it got to. Pity. I was actually enjoying writing in it." she said, remembering the leather bound book.

"Why mention it?" an odd look had come across Snape's features, one that Auriga couldn't exactly pinpoint.

"I'm thinking about starting one again. It might send me mad again, but at least I can do something." She sighed.

"Somehow I don't think that will help with anything." Snape said smoothly. "Thoughts are astounding things, containing the power to destroy or rebuild anything."

"Hmm."

Another silence hung thick in the air. Auriga could feel the warmth slowing within her. Closing her eyes, she took a tentative step by resting her head against Severus's shoulder. No flinch. She took that as a good sign. She could feel herself growing tired.

"Auriga?" Severus broke the silence, causing her to almost jump.

"Hmm?"

"I have it."

"Have what?"

"Your journal. Notebook. Whatever you used to call it. I took it." this caused her to open her eyes and look up at him.

"Why?"

"You know why."

"Do you still have it?"

"Yes. In the second drawer of my desk, underneath some old books."

"No offense, Severus, but that's kind of strange."

"Says you."

"Oh, thanks." Nonetheless, she still smiled softly at him, and he returned the gesture with a smirk. It was then that the sadness decided to rip into her. This time the tears flowed.

"I miss him so much." She said softly, squeezing his hand.

"I know. But you need to remember, you need to eventually move on. Live the life he never had. Live for him, but more importantly, live for yourself."

"I know. God. I loved him so much. Even though he didn't say it, I knew he did too." She buried her face in his shoulder, breathing in the calming scent of him.

"Auriga?" But this time it wasn't his voice. Jerking away from Severus, she looked up to see McGonagall standing hesitantly in the doorway, her hand slightly shaking on the doorhandle.

"Minerva, what are you doing here?" Auriga was almost angry. Almost. But she was more afraid of Severus's reaction to her barging into his own quarters.

" I should be asking the same thing of you." She said pointedly. Auriga looked back at Severus, but instead of seeing anger, she saw a sadness that she had never seen before.

"Auriga, I think you should go." he said quietly, still looking at McGonagall.

"No. Why are-?"

"Auriga, who are you talking to?" McGonagall's voice cut through the air.

"Who do you think I'm talking to?" Auriga was now growing angry. And confused. Why wasn't Severus doing anything?

"I don't know. But I think you should come with me, dear." A softness had come over McGonagall. Auriga stared at McGonagall in disbelief.

"For once in your life, Auriga, listen to me. I think you should go." he said in her ear, and gave her hand a squeeze again but with much more ferocity. Auriga whipped her head back and forth between the two people, before finally settling on McGonagall, who was walking towards her. Close up, she could see a single tear rolling down McGonagall's cheek.

"Auriga, you shouldn't be here."

"But-"

"Auriga. There's no one here." McGonagall had now reached Auriga, and had placed a hand on her shoulder. A coldness swept through Auriga like she had just apparated into a frozen lake, her clothes too heavy around her and causing her to sink down. Looking next to her, searching for the warm comfort of his eyes, instead she found empty air. Starting to panic, she looked down at where their hands were interlocked. Again, hers was just lying open on her leg. An emptiness began to spread through her again, like an old wound reopened. He was gone. Again. Forever.  
She looked at her hand again, swearing she could still feel his warmth. She could still hear his voice in her ear, smell him. Even though she knew he was gone. There was that word again. _Gone. _It still didn't feel right. Tears started pooling from her eyes, and a small sob began to wrack her body.

" He was here. It was as though he was here." She whispered, mainly to herself. "It was so real." It was so cold.

"I know. But it's been almost a year." McGonagall's voice sounded a light-year away.

"No."

"No?"

"A year. Today." Auriga looked straight ahead, staring where he used to stare.

"You shouldn't be here." McGonagall said for what seemed to be the umpteenth time. "Come up where it's warm. You need to get away, Auriga. Maybe taking some time off would be better-"

"No."

"Then maybe come up for some hot tea?" McGonagall said almost pleadingly. This time Auriga met her eyes. She could almost see the emptiness echoed within McGonagall's eyes, but not quite. Instead of giving any sort of gesture, she rose, and walked across the room to an old desk. She could now see that it was covered in a thick layer of dust. She ignored McGonagall's questions to what she was doing. Instead, she opened the second drawer. Inside were a few spare rolls of parchment, an old quill and a small bottle of unopened ink resting on top of a book. But she could clearly see what she was looking for, a lump underneath the parchment. Gently moving the parchment, she picked the old book up and closed the drawer again. Not looking at anything else but the book, tears streaming down her face and sobs wracking her frame, she moved towards the door. McGonagall was already outside. She couldn't hear anything anymore. The only thing at that moment was the leather bound book from eight years ago, detailing her messy personal life. It was just like she remembered, only seemingly more tattered, with a conspicuous page marked.

Opening the book to where the page was marked, she found a small folded piece of paper. Disregarding the paper, she looked at the pages which had been folded. They were some of her last entries. She smiled as she read the page.

_15__th__ February, 1992  
11:53 am_

_I think I'm actually in love with him. I didn't think it was even possible. But I think I love him. And you know what, Notebook? I think he might be in love with me too. Is it too early to actually feel happy for once? I don't think so. _

One of her tears splashed onto the page as she read it over and over again, and then finally opened the folded piece of paper.

_Of course, you twit. How could I not?_

She smiled as she traced her fingers over the letters.

"Goodbye, Sev. I love you too."

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_**A/N: Reviews and any feedback always welcome!**_


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